


Of Tricks, Treats and Goblin Kings

by Telcontarian



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Brief Mentions of Donald Trump, Brief Mentions of Tina Turner, Crack, Crossdressing, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Horny Owls, Mating Rituals, Owl Form Jareth (Labyrinth), Samhain, Semi-Public Sex, Trick or Treating, Unresolved Sexual Tension, adult type touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26886820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telcontarian/pseuds/Telcontarian
Summary: Posted in response to the LFFL Fall/Winter Writing Challenge.On All Hallows Eve when the veil is thin between worlds, will Sarah get more than she bargained for when she comes face to face with Jareth once more?
Relationships: Jareth & Sarah Williams, Jareth/Sarah Williams
Comments: 17
Kudos: 79





	Of Tricks, Treats and Goblin Kings

**Author's Note:**

> Posted in response to the LFFL Fall/Winter Writing Challenge.
> 
> A massive thank you to my online dysfunctional family and my fellow scribes for helping me brainstorm this fic and providing a sounding board for goblin shenanigans.
> 
> And a very subtle nod to the incredible Lixxle whose work can be found [here.](https://m.fanfiction.net/u/1494434/Lixxle)

Unlike most people, if you asked Sarah Williams to pinpoint where it all went wrong in her life, she would cheerfully tell you that her midlife crisis began at the tender age of fifteen when she wished her baby brother away to the Goblin King from her story book. If you were still intrigued by her story at that point and weren’t surreptitiously trying to leave the room to dial the telephone number of the nearest psychiatric institution, Sarah would further indulge in reminiscing about the thirteen hours she had spent Underground, running through a maze while said Goblin King watched her progress and played with his crystal balls. And if by some miracle you hadn’t opened the nearest bottle of gin and questioned your own life choices, Sarah would then tell you about being groped by disembodied hands, making her way through a Bog that smelled more foul than an elephant’s snatch and being roofied by said Goblin King who had promised to spend the rest of his eternal life giving her glitter and orgasms, then you probably had your own nice padded cell and were most likely licking windows and contemplating voting to re-elect Donald Trump while waiting for your next round of medication.

Which is why, Sarah had shared her story with precisely only three other people: her father, her stepmother and the best psychiatrist that money could buy that they had promptly sent her to. Although Patricia Redwood seemed to enjoy Sarah’s story – practically frothing at the gash when she had asked Sarah to describe the tightness of Jareth’s trousers in great detail – therapy was definitely something that Sarah had no wish to repeat. Robert and Karen had been greatly relieved when Ms Redwood had proclaimed Sarah to be going through “a very special time in her life”, while fanning herself profusely. However, they had all but dragged Sarah from the room when Ms Redwood had started explaining the birds and the bees to Sarah in very explicit detail that could only be achieved through an extremely thorough psychoanalysis of “Fifty Shades of Grey.”

Thankfully, Karen and Robert seemed to content themselves with believing that Sarah had nothing more than an incredibly overactive imagination, and chose to turn a blind eye to the strange phenomena that seemed to follow Sarah and Toby wherever they went. When Toby began to giggle with his imaginary friends over the baby monitor in the middle of the night, no amount of sage, lavender or weekly exorcisms by the friendly yet perplexed priest seemed to have any effect. They were forced to accept that Toby was gifted and were thrilled that he was making friends with supernatural entities that liked to turn on the television and watch programmes about chickens at three o’clock in the morning.

When Robert woke up one morning to find “Higgle iz a kunt” written across the bathroom mirror in toothpaste, he chuckled to himself as he brushed his teeth, wondering when his five-year-old son learned to write and making a mental note to remind Toby of the importance of good spelling and grammar.

When Sarah started screaming at the barn owl who had started appearing at her bedroom window at random hours, screeching and flapping its wings and leaving dead rodents on her windowsill, Robert and Karen found that their television seemed to be stuck permanently on the Animal Planet channel and they discovered more about the mating rituals of owls than they had ever thought possible.

As for the chickens that invaded their house, they never could quite explain that one, but trusted Sarah when she promised to sort it out. Neither Karen nor Robert could comprehend why Sarah screaming obscenities into her bedroom closet and threatening to nail Jareth’s bollocks to the mantlepiece seemed to work – Robert winced, not knowing who this Jareth fellow was, but deciding that he didn’t deserve that – but they weren’t complaining when the chickens disappeared into seemingly thin air. However, they both agreed that they could have done without cleaning up feathers and chicken shit for a month afterwards.

Soon, the Williams family seemed to grow accustomed to the strange goings on that became a daily occurrence: footprints on the ceiling; the toaster being misplaced in the refrigerator; the disappearance of Karen’s best tea cosies and stilettos and the memorable occasion when they had come home to find their bathtub overflowing with chocolate pudding… Well, it could happen to anyone, right?

As Halloween fast approached, Robert and Karen were most relieved when Sarah offered to take Toby out trick-or-treating that year, which would provide them with ample time and opportunity to find homes for the dozen stray cats that seemed to have taken up residence in the formal dining room. They cooed over Toby’s costume, wiping away stray tears at how adorable he looked in his red tea cosy hat, Hawaiian shirt and grass skirt ensemble, a rubber duck tucked securely under one arm and a fork in the other. Unfortunately, Sarah had stayed firm in her decision that stilettos were an inappropriate choice of footwear for a five-year-old child, but was fully supportive of Toby wearing them when he was older, if he so wished. Robert chuckled fondly, attempting to ruffle Toby’s hair and dislodging the tea cosy which Toby righted with a scowl and promptly tried to stab his father in the kidney with his fork.

As for Sarah, Robert and Karen weren’t entirely certain where she got the idea to dress as Tina Turner on heroin, but they both agreed that her outfit had been meticulously put together, from the leather jacket to the skin-tight trousers down which Sarah had stuffed the thickest pair of socks that she could find. They waved cheerily as Sarah and Toby left to begin their night, followed by a loud cacophony of hoots and shrieking as Karen’s missing dessert spoons miraculously appeared out of thin air, albeit bent out of shape and nibbled around the edges, before the door slammed shut of its own accord in their wake.

And really, it had been one of her better ideas mused Sarah with a smile as she watched the goblin hoard accost Freddie McAdams who had tried to kiss Sarah at a birthday party last year. They were having a marvellous time tying his shoelaces together and cackling with glee while replacing his hard-earned Halloween haul with lumps of coal and tipping the pilfered sweeties into Toby’s already overflowing bucket. The peanuts the goblins kept for themselves, crunching happily on the shells and spitting nuts at unsuspecting passers-by.

The goblins’ favourite part of the night was undoubtedly when Mrs Smith, who frequently complained about Karen’s flowers being too colourful, requested that Toby sing a song to earn his reward. Much to Sarah’s chagrin, she was forced to participate in singing “Dance Magic Dance” while strutting, twirling and kicking a few goblins for good measure. “Just like Kingy!” they squealed with delight, while they laughed and clapped and danced around their feet. However, when Mrs Smith handed over one measly chocolate bar as a reward, the goblins ransacked her house and stole every left shoe for good measure.

As the door closed behind them, Sarah’s face burned with humiliation as the sound of slow clapping reached her ears and she glanced up to see Jareth leaning against the oak tree at the bottom of Mrs Smith’s garden. Sarah fought not to fidget under his predatory gaze as his eyes swept slowly over her form from top to toe, a wicked smirk pulling at his lips as he took in every last detail of her outfit.

“My my Sarah,” he murmured, his eyes lingering just a touch too long on her sock stuffed bulge. “I’m not sure whether I should be flattered or aroused.”

In spite of herself, she was unable to prevent her own eyes from sweeping over the hard, muscular planes of his body, accentuated by the ruffled white shirt and tightly fitting leather breeches that could have been painted on. “Oh, bite me,” she snapped, feeling the heat rising to her face and knowing full well that there was nothing she could do to prevent the thick blush that she knew was stealing across her cheeks. She glanced over at Toby who was surrounded by goblins and happily examining his haul while seemingly oblivious to the conversation that was currently taking place. “Why are you here, Jareth?”

“It’s All Hallows Eve, Precious,” he replied huskily, his gaze locked on her own, his eyes dark with longing and sinful promise. “The veil between worlds is thin tonight and I may pass through unhindered if I wish.”

It was hard to look intimidating dressed as the fairy-tale king from your story book when he was literally standing toe-to-toe with you, but Sarah hoped that she looked suitably menacing as she folded her arms across her chest. “Cut the bullshit, why are you really here?”

Jareth scowled, a frustrated growl tearing from the back of his throat. “I grow weary of waiting for your answer. I have reordered time, I have turned the world upside down and I have moved the stars for you, and still you refuse my courtship.”

“Your courtship?” Sarah spluttered indignantly, “You call leaving dead rodents on my windowsill a fucking marriage proposal? You know what? Bollocks to this.” She turned on her heel, turning her back on what was an undoubtedly pissed off Fae. “Come on, Toby,” she said gently, reaching out to take her brother’s hand in her own as they started walking down the starlit street towards home, wincing when she realised that his fingers were sticky and his cheeks were covered in chocolate. “It’s past your bedtime, young man.”

“Who were you fighting with, Sarah?”

A shiver whispered along the column of Sarah’s spine as warm breath ghosted over the delicate shell of her ear and she swore quietly, realising that Jareth was following them and had no intention of leaving her alone. “Yes, Sarah-mine, who were you fighting with?” he purred.

Sarah blinked. “Why can’t Toby see you?”

Jareth chuckled darkly causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end as his lips brushed against her skin. “We must not look at goblin men, we must not eat their fruit,” he chanted and Sarah did not need to turn around to see the sinister smile that she knew was twisting his lips. “Speaking of food, Precious, why did you not accept my offerings?”

“Your offerings?” Sarah scoffed, glancing over her shoulder at Jareth while Toby stared up at his sister in confusion, watching her argue with thin air before deciding that if all adults were as crazy as Sarah, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to grow up. “Usually when humans date each other, they show affection with flowers and chocolate, not by regurgitating headless rats!” And really, Sarah knew that she was playing with fire and that she ought to know better by now than to provoke supernatural entities, but she really was a glutton for punishment.

“I’m showing you that I can provide for you, Precious.”

Sarah didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know that Jareth was put out, his wicked mouth turned down and pouting like a petulant child. “I don’t need you to provide for me, I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you very much.” Sarah froze, her blood running cold through her veins and she swallowed thickly as her breath hitched in her throat. Hadn’t she read somewhere that you were not supposed to thank Fae?

Thankfully, if Jareth was at all offended by her major faux pas, he chose to ignore it. The only signs that he had noticed her slip up were the flare of his nostrils and the minute clench of his jaw, so subtle that Sarah was almost certain that she missed it as she glanced back at the Goblin King. She didn’t, however, miss the gleam in his eye as he whistled sharply and Bec and Cäül managed to pull themselves away from chewing poor Mr Rogers’ windscreen wipers long enough to answer their monarch’s summons.

“Escort Toby straight home: do not stop to collect stray cats, we have enough prowling the Castle and for the love of all that is unholy, if you are going to defecate in the pumpkins, please ensure that you extinguish the candles this time or I will cover you both in chicken feathers and drop you headfirst into the Bog of Eternal Stench.”

“Messy,” agreed Bec wisely.

“Which chicken?” asked Cäül curiously.

The goblins cowered before Jareth as he glared at them and summoned a crystal ball before scampering away and all but tearing Toby’s hand from Sarah’s before disappearing with a loud fart.

“Hey –“ The rest of Sarah’s protests were cut off as Jareth’s gloved hand encased her own and she was pulled out of the lamplight and pinned against the side of the nearest property. His fingers clutched her wrists in a vice like grip by her head and his body was a steel cage against her own, pressed against every inch of her. His eyes blazed with a preternatural wildness as his warm breath brushed against her mouth, as intimate as a lover’s kiss and Sarah gulped, licking her lips nervously as Jareth followed the movement with his hungry gaze. And dear god, if he was going to ravish her right here and now she just hoped that she wouldn’t be held responsible for the heart attack that Mrs Able would surely have if she happened to look out of her kitchen window.

“I would tell you to go fuck yourself, but I have a feeling that this is the closest that you will ever come to accomplishing that.”

Jareth chose to ignore that particular quip and Sarah jumped as he bowed his head to press his lips against the column of her throat, her breath hitching in her chest. “I would conquer the galaxies themselves if I could but lay the stars at your feet,” he murmured against her heated skin.

Sarah snorted, trying and failing to appear aloof and unaffected despite the growing wetness that she could feel pooling between her legs. “And I thought that I was dramatic,” she squeaked, mentally cursing herself as her voice gave her away instantly and Jareth grinned wickedly against her collarbone, seeing right through her attempt at a ruse, the bastard. The small, twisted part of her that was somehow still able to fully function despite the attention that she was currently receiving from his skilful mouth wondered if the sick fuck got his rocks off knowing that his Champion occasionally enjoyed masquerading as him. The insistent press of his erection against her thigh told her helpfully that he probably enjoyed it very much.

Despite biting down on her bottom lip, a low moan escaped unbidden from her throat when Jareth’s sharp teeth scraped along her racing pulse, wedging his thigh in between her own and causing her head to fall back against the brickwork. “Every year, Precious,” he muttered, his breath coming in short gasps as he rocked his hips against her own, burying his face in her neck, “Every year you dress in my likeness to attract my attention. And every year you reject my advances. You can be cruel, Sarah-mine.”

“I am not your anything,” she panted, her cheeks flushed with pleasure as she ground desperately against Jareth’s powerful thigh, squirming as the friction became almost unbearable, sending a fresh wave of desire trickling down to her already throbbing centre. Jareth released her hands to brush that fucking infuriating Tina Turner wig from Sarah’s head, her hair falling over his gloved hands like a dark waterfall. Despite her earlier words, Sarah reached trembling fingers out to grasp the collar of his shirt and silenced his retort with the press of her mouth against his own.

“Say yes, Sarah,” he begged, pulling away to tug her bottom lip between his teeth, gloved hand caressing her jaw before slipping under the leather jacket that she wore to trace the curve of her breast through the thin material of her shirt. Sarah gasped as Jareth’s questing fingers brushed against the sensitive bud of her taut nipple, the palm of his hand hot against her breast. His free hand grasped her thigh, lifting her leg to wrap around his hip and shuddering as he thrust up into her heat, causing Sarah’s eyes to roll back into her head and fisting her hands in his hair to bring his mouth down to hers once more.

“Say that you will give yourself to me,” Jareth whispered against her mouth, his eyes wild with desire and longing and the promise of the ruin that they could bring on each other under the dying light of billions of watchful stars. His breath was beginning to come in short gasps, his own lips parted as the rhythm of his hips stuttered against her own. His fingers pressed insistently against the apex of her thighs through the damp material of her trousers and Sarah keened against his lips, her nimble hands reaching under his shirt to scrape her fingernails against his skin. Jareth growled, his lips finding her collarbone once more as she ground desperately against his fingers. “Sarah, don’t defy me.”

Sarah tugged viciously on Jareth’s hair, forcing his head back to expose the pale column of his throat, biting at the delicate skin and tearing a ragged groan from his mouth. “If I surrender to you,” she whispered, running her tongue soothingly over the marks that she had left. “Will you give me your word that you will return me Aboveground?”

Jareth swore violently, straining against her grasp but she held fast, forcing him to submit. “Your word, Jareth.”

“You have it,” he vowed.

Sarah released his hair and she swore that she felt Jareth shiver as she placed her mouth against his ear, teeth scraping against the delicate point.

“Take me to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and comments


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